Second Chance
by macandreads
Summary: Hσω cαη I fιgнт тнє ρєяѕση ωнσ нαѕ gινєη мє тнє gяєαтєѕт gιfт σf αƖƖ? ó-ò After an empowered individual known as "The Restitutionist" begins bringing the deceased back to life, Matt Murdock dons his Daredevil suit and decides to pursue him. But, after Matt comes face to face with his father, he is forced to rethink his actions.
1. The Restitutionist's Message

_Mortality. The word that distinguishes man_ _from_ _god_. _Man from monster. Man from prosperity._

 _Life is precious. It deserves to be cherished, not to_ _be_ _wasted._

 _When one's life is_ _taken_ _from them far too soon, and_ _completely_ _out of their control, its value is stripped away as they take their final_ _breaths._

 _But, what if_ _I_ _could_ _give_ _them_ _their_ _life_ _back?_ _Return_ _what is_ _rightfully_ _theirs. Who_ _wouldn't_ _do it, if they had_ _that_ _opportunity?_

 _I_ _could give_ _them a second chance. And_ _I_ _will._

 _Signed,_  
 _\- The Restitutionist_


	2. Prologue

_Nelson_ _and_ _Murdock_  
 _Four Months Ago_

"I'm Daredevil," Matt said, holding his mask out to Karen. He was regretful that this moment hadn't occurred sooner, and that it was happening _now_ , when their lives were all in disarray. Foggy was considering a new job at another firm, and Karen had moved on to the _New York Bulletin_ , frustrated with Matt after their failed romance.

Karen stared at the mask, mouth agape. She was silent for quite some time, unsure of what to say. Matt considered listening to her heart, or her breathing, for anything that could hint at her reaction, but it all felt too wrong. She needed this moment to herself.

"You're shitting me," said Karen in denial.

"I'm not," replied Matt, his voice somber.

Karen was quiet once again, but she stepped forward slowly, her fingers inches from the mask. Finally they came into contact with it, gliding across the strong material slowly from one devil horn to the other.

Her eyes flicked up to Matt's bruised face, and suddenly she understood. The cuts, the bruises, the sick days. The shitty excuses, the tension between Matt and Foggy. And, the tender moment she'd shared with Daredevil when he'd saved her from the Hand.

The only thing she couldn't wrap her head around was how he did it, and why he had waited until now to tell her.

"I-I don't understand..." Karen began. She stopped herself, putting her hand over her mouth as she worked to rephrase her question. The only word she managed to say was "how?"

"Remember the car accident I told you about, when I was nine?"

"Yeah, and you told me that it blinded you," recalled Karen. "But it couldn't have, because-"

Matt set the mask on the table, removed his glasses, folded them up, and placed them into his pocket. He tried to make eye contact with Karen, but he never could, despite the fact that he always knew exactly where her eyes were.

Karen stared back into his eyes, but they were blank and lifeless. She searched them for emotion, for answers, any hints to the words that he was about to say.

"I have other methods of 'seeing'," said Matt. He then began to explain his abilities in a simple but thorough manner, while Karen listened intently.

Karen's mind didn't skip over even one word he'd said. They were extraordinary, every single one. The sound of his voice as he spoke contained trembles of shame, as he wished he'd told her much sooner, in much better circumstances. Her heart ached for him, and she continued to listen until he'd finished.

It was Karen's turn to speak now. "You have saved my life _more_ _than_ _once._ I just don't get that you could stand in front of me all this time and not allow me to thank you for it. Allow for me to...know what is really going on."

"You said that you would be here when I was ready to talk."

Karen nodded as her gaze traveled to her feet, remembering that conversation. "Yes. Though, this is a lot bigger than what I'd expected." She looked back up at Matt, giving him a small smirk of amusement. "I'm not going to run away from you now, if that's what you're thinking."

"But you're angry," Matt said. He could tell that just from the tone of her voice. He didn't even have to listen closely.

"Not at you," Karen said. "I mean, I _want_ to be. I'm not entirely sure why, but I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with myself."

Matt was perplexed. "How are you not mad at _me?"_ He was beginning to _want_ her to be angry, because that's the only response he was used to receiving. It seemed unnatural. Wasn't she unhappy that he wasn't honest with her from the beginning?

"I knew something serious was going on with you for the past couple of months, and it wasn't the first time you've seemed...conflicted, hurt-mentally and physically. I just wish I'd tried to do more to help out." Her fingers made their way to Matt's bruised cheek, and his skin tingled under her touch. She did it so lightly and softly that it didn't cause him any pain.

She was still hurt. But Karen was pushing the hurt away, refusing to feel it, as if she felt like she didn't deserve it.

"Foggy's reaction was a lot more heated," Matt said.

"He's known you longer. And he doesn't understand that certain secrets shouldn't be up for grabs by the general public."

"Foggy isn't the general public."

"I didn't say you shouldn't have told him. I just know that burdens like this aren't easy to talk about. And you never know the right time to bring it up."

"You're talking about this as if it's from experience."

Karen blinked, her fingers now unmoving. She pulled her hand back, letting her arms dangle by her sides awkwardly. Matt could feel her discomfort radiating off of her skin like a hot steam.

"You don't have to talk about it," Matt said. "I have no right to ask anything of you. Especially not tonight."

Karen looked at him shamefully. After Frank Castle's trial, Karen had discovered a new side of herself, an empathy towards criminals and vigilantes. Maybe that clouded her judgement, or maybe it made it clearer; she had no idea. "No...you have every right."

"What?"

"Nothi-" Karen stopped herself again. She couldn't keep this to herself any longer. The lying, the hiding from the truth of who she really was-the undying weight on her shoulders was getting heavier and heavier each day, and Matt had already given her all he had left.

Funny, how Matt's relationship-altering reveal was about to turn into the mutual exchange of dark secrets.

"I did something bad. Really, _really_ bad. You probably feel like you have seen the worst in yourself, but at least you haven't-" She walked over to her desk and sat down, burying her head into her hands. "You haven't done anything like this. I know that now."

Matt pulled up a chair beside Karen. He tried to think of something to say, but couldn't.

"You remember James Wesley, right?" Karen's fingers interlocked, and she squeezed so hard that her knuckles turned white.

"Yeah, we all met him. He worked for Fisk."

"But no one ever released what had happened to him," said Karen.

"I thought he was incarcerated with the rest of Fisk's men..." Karen shook her head.

"He-uh, he found out that Ben and I went to see Fisk's mother and...kidnapped me."

"Karen, why didn't you tell us about-"

"Because of what I did, okay?" Karen said suddenly. Tears filled her eyes. "Every day I replay it in my head. Every day I see his-his face. Every day I ask myself why I-" She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut. "I shot him. I _killed_ him. So I guess I can't really be mad at you for being Daredevil after what I did. At least you're a good person."

Matt had always known that something had been bothering Karen, but he hadn't realized that it was this extreme. She thought that she shouldn't blame him because of what he did, but he can't blame her either, because he had tried to kill Fisk once. It was an endless loop. Being a vigilante like Daredevil carried so much weight, so much darkness, that Matt surprises even himself.

"Karen, you're a good person," said Matt reassuringly. "He held you captive; you had no choice. Self-defense."

"Then why do I feel this giant, dark hole inside me that gets bigger and bigger every single day?"

"It's because you're human," Matt explained. "Even if it wasn't your fault, you still feel guilty. It means you have a conscience, and that's a good thing. The only way that you can fill this hole is by forgiving yourself. It's the only thing you can do."

Matt rested his hand on top of hers, and her grip finally relaxed. They stayed like this for quite some time, in silence.

Matt never asked her why she'd kept this from him all this time. He didn't need to, because he already knew. He felt the same way. She didn't want people to look at her differently. She didn't want her life to change. All she wanted was to pretend that everything was okay.

And, even with their lives in shambles, maybe there was potential that something could go right again.


	3. Chapter 1

_Hogarth, Chao, Benowitz, and Nelson_  
 _Present Day_

"Since you are still relatively new here, let me clarify something about our clientele. We don't choose our clients based on truth, Franklin. Our goal is to _win cases_ and _make money_. We can't afford to have you turn down any more cases that we can win, even if our potential client is dishonest."

"'Dishonest.' That's the word you're labeling him with? He killed _three children_ in their own home, and you expect me to get him out of prison _simply_ because he has _deep pockets?"_ Foggy said angrily. Jeri Hogarth was supposed to have been one of his partners, but she sure did feel a lot like his _boss_.

Like any new opportunity that people offer you, it looks all nice and pretty at the beginning, wrapped up in fancy paper like a gift on Christmas, but soon, you discover the dark shadows. He knew much more about this firm's past than he was letting on, about bribes and threats. No super-successful firm was perfectly clean, but it was as if Hogarth wasn't even trying to change her ways.

Foggy had put up with it for four months. It was fine at first, until he realized that a jury at one of his cases had been tampered with. He barely made his way out of that one; it was an experience that had his heart racing all the way up until the verdict. And he still wasn't in perfect shape after the fact. It was one of those times where he'd envied Matt and his abilities, and he missed the clarity and sense of direction that he'd had at their own practice.

After the trial, he didn't confront Hogarth about it. He was worried that his suspicions were wrong. What if Hogarth hadn't been behind the tampering? It could have been someone on the outside with Fisk-like connections.

After coming across a person like Wilson Fisk, no one can be too sure about anything anymore.

Also, Jeri Hogarth was hiding something else, something involving a man named Kevin Thompson and a secretary named Pam. Something...dark. Possibly even with fatalities.

"I have been here for four months. It may not seem like that long to you, since I am 'relatively new', but I have had enough experience here to know _damn well_ what cases you would take and what cases you would throw to the wolves. But if you want me to work with you, then I deserve to have my own clients, and my own cases. I know what I am comfortable with. You asked me to work with you because I defended a professional criminal. If that's all you want me for, the cases that I'm not proud of, then I don't want to be here."

Hogarth's expression was unchanging. Her eyes were narrow and her lips were tight. She had hoped that she could use an astounding lawyer like Foggy and point him in her own direction, but now she knew for sure that he stood firmly in his own beliefs.

"Very well. I suppose your 'good mouthful' isn't going to be an issue anymore," she said, referring to what Foggy had said about the firm's name chage to include him as well. "Perhaps this partnership hasn't gone the way any of us had expected."

Foggy hated being unemployed, but it felt so much better to get that off of his chest. The guilt. Everyone deserved a fair trial, a fighting chance for justice, but the way Hogarth did it, the way she was _actively seeking_ the criminals and not the innocents, how was that still fair?

Foggy nodded, pulling his briefcase strap higher up his shoulder. He picked up the very few things that he kept in his office, and then he headed out, not turning back.

As he made his way out the exit door, a girl with dark hair, who appeared to be in a hurry, accidentally bumped into him.

"Sorry, Jessica," Foggy said. He looked over his shoulder as she ran up the stairs, not acknowledging him or his apology. She wasn't the kind of person that was into that kind of thing, anyway. She had a thick skin, yet she was also short-fused. It seemed like a contradicting statement, but somehow it described her pretty well.

Once Foggy made it back to his apartment, he debated calling Marci to inform her about the situation. As he scrolled through his contacts, he saw Matt's name right under hers, and his mind wandered.

After the two friends had gone their separate ways, they still had brief contact. Sometimes Daredevil would appear on the news, but nothing seemed to be as dangerous as Fisk, the Punisher, or the Hand. On occasion, they would see each other at Josie's as they both drank alone. Once or twice, Karen was there too. They usually engaged in small talk about new jobs (Matt was still unemployed as far as he knew) and the sorts, but none of it was ever serious. Foggy hated it.

Foggy's finger hovered over his phone screen. He felt in debt to his friend, like he'd let him down. Matt had needed him. Sure, Foggy didn't exactly approve of how his friend spent his nights, but he needed someone to be there for him anyway. Foggy had failed him.

He tapped his best friend's name.

He held the phone up to his ear, listening to it ring. He wasn't yet sure of what he was going to say, just that he wanted to hear Matt's voice again.

Matt answered on the third ring. "Foggy?" He sounded exhausted.

Foggy stared at the wall in front of him. "Hi, Matt."

"What's up?" Matt asked. Foggy could hear from his tone of voice that Matt thought something was wrong. Sure enough, that was his next question. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no," said Foggy. He was quiet for a moment. "Actually, yes. Yes there is."

"What?"

"Us. We're what's wrong. I am sick of us avoiding each other every time we fight. I am tired of fighting. I know we disagree on things, but I don't care anymore. I know you're not the best role model, but I'm the best when we are together."

Foggy waited for a reply. He hadn't planned on saying that much over the phone, but it was all the truth.

"Okay," said Matt. "We can try again. You can come here if you want."

"Okay. I'll, uh, I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Matt held a butterfly tape bandage in his right hand, then used it to close a cut on his cheek. He ran his tongue over his lip, which was split on the the right side.

He picked up a beer bottle and took a gulp.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

 _Matt's Apartment_  
 _Four Months Ago_

"So, you don't have a drinking problem, then," said Karen.

"Well, I drink, obviously, but I'm not an alcoholic."

Karen nodded, but didn't say anything. Her eyes wandered to Matt's bedroom, where she'd seen the woman lying in his bed.

"Karen, I didn't cheat on you. I would never do that."

"Then who was that girl?"

"Her name is Elektra, she was an ally, and she was injured. And the old man you saw was Stick." He had briefly mentioned both of them to her in his explanation of being Daredevil.

"Oh," said Karen. "I guess anytime someone finds a girl lying in your bed, they jump to conclusions."

Matt gave a small chuckle. "I guess so. But you can't say much." He was referring to back when Karen had been framed for murdering Daniel Fisher. After all, she'd slept there, too. And Claire, after the Russians kidnapped her.

There was a pattern here. Amusing.

"That's true," said Karen with a smile. They were both relieved that the conversation had become more lighthearted, and no one was mad at the other.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

 _Matt's Apartment_  
 _Present Day_

There was a knock on Matt's door. He, who was sitting on his couch, stood to his feet and walked to his door. He opened it, revealing Foggy standing there. Foggy's tie was loose, as he had been pulling on it. He was no longer carrying his briefcase.

"Hey," said Foggy.

"Hey," replied Matt. He held the door open wider so Foggy could come inside. Foggy shuffled through the short hallway, Matt following with lazier steps. Foggy chose a seat on the couch, his eyes landing on the half-full beer bottle sitting on the coffee table.

"Do you want a beer?" asked Matt.

Foggy shook his head. "I'll just take some water."

Matt nodded and headed to his kitchen area. He picked up a glass from his dish rack and filled it with tap water. He rounded the counter and handed it to his friend, sitting across from him.

"Thanks," Foggy said. Matt nodded.

"So, you wanted to talk..."

Foggy nodded, too. "When we have these fights, you always back away and let me choose where we go from there, and, lately, I've always chosen to keep my distance. And you've let me," said Foggy. "Though you try not to show it, I know you well enough to see that it's tearing you apart inside in the same way that it does to me. And I can't take it anymore."

Matt lowered his head. Foggy was right, and Matt wasn't keen on pouring out his emotions to anyone. The whole touchy-feely wasn't really his style, or he at least tried not to make it that way.

"I just can't take the lies, man," Foggy told him. "Every time I think you're being honest with me, I find out something else, always _the hard way_. And it's always about something that I would have been willing to help you with, to be there for you, like a _friend should_."

Another thing Foggy was right about. Matt was just accustomed to lying. Ever since the car accident that took his sight and gave him his abilities, he's kept that secret. He's played the blind guy act in full, even though it wasn't entirely true. Sure, he couldn't _literally_ see, but he actually could, in a manner of speaking.

"So, if we're gonna do this, you have to be honest with me. No Elektras or secret missions that I don't know about," stated Foggy.

"Okay," said Matt.

There was a short, awkward silence between the two of them.

"You're not talking much, dude," Foggy said with a grin. "You're killing me, man."

"What, you want me to recite the poem I've been working on while you were gone? Because it's a piece of shit," replied Matt with a smirk.

"Oh, then please, go ahead." Foggy held his hands out, Matt's cue to begin.

"Okay, _that_ was a lie. I don't have a shitty poem for you."

"My ears say 'thank you.'"

Matt chuckled, then held up a fist. Foggy bumped his own fist against Matt's.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

 _Josie's Bar_  
 _Three Months Ago_

"So...I wrote an article about Daredevil last night. If it gets approved, it should be in the next _Bulletin."_

Matt raised his eyebrows, leaning his arm against the bar. "Oh, really?" He took a sip of his drink. "Should I be worried?"

"No," said Karen, taking a sip of hers with a smile. "I interviewed Rhonda Hardy, the woman you saved the other night, from her ex. She told me that-wait, let me get out my notes. Wouldn't want to get it wrong by accident." Karen reached into her purse for the notepad she always kept with her, then flipped a few pages. "Got it. She said, 'Daredevil is truly a hero. He saved my life. This man doesn't deserve the horns that society made him wear; he should have a halo above his head, because he is this city's guardian angel.'"

"Hm," said Matt with surprise. "A halo, huh? That's...different."

Karen smiled with an exhale of amusement. "Yeah..."

"Also, it sounds like she hates this city."

Karen tilted her head with a small frown. "No, she just thinks Daredevil deserves better, I guess." She put her hand on his cheek. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist. "You do."

Matt was silent. "That's your opinion."

Karen huffed out a loud breath, her mouth wide and her eyebrows high. She lowered her hand. "You sure do know how to turn a compliment into an insult."

Matt smirked. "What, I'm ruining the moment?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Then perhaps we should fix that." He held his hand back out to her, and she took it inside her own. Matt dropped a few bills on the bar and escorted Karen outside to the sidewalk.

They walked hand-in-hand to Matt's apartment. As soon as the door clicked shut, they walked to Matt's living room area. Karen slowly removed Matt's glasses. She set them on his coffee table. Her eyes stared into his, which were brown and lightless, though they still held emotion. She couldn't read people as well as Matt, but he was, at this moment, an open book.

Ever since Nelson and Murdock disbanded, Matt had no need to dress fancy, so he usually ended up wearing t-shirts and jeans. At first it was odd to Karen, seeing him this way so often, but she'd adjusted.

She now gripped the shoulders of one of these t-shirts, which was a dark grey. She waited for Matt to make a move. His fingers carefully brushed the buttons on her own shirt.

"May I?" he asked.

Karen nodded. "Yes."

A small smirk rose on Matt's face as he undid the first button, and then the second. Karen's breathing grew heavier as his fingers lightly brushed her skin. When her shirt was off, Karen tugged on Matt's. He stretched his arms out, allowing it to come off more easily.

Matt worked softly and gently. At first it only made Karen anxious, but he made it sweet and enjoyable. Once they were down to only underwear, he lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to his bed, where he carefully set her down.

Then he kissed her. It was better than their first. It was full of desire, of love. They wriggled out of the rest of their garments and continued to kiss.

Their breathing was heavy and full of satisfaction as they moved against each other, harmonizing with each other. Matt's fingers trailed slowly and lightly across Karen's arms and back, and she closed her eyes with a gasp of exhilaration.

When it was over, they stayed close, tangled unitedly under the silk sheets. Karen traced Matt's scars with her fingers, feeling his breaths tickle her neck, causing her heart to flutter. They both closed their eyes and drifted away into a pleasant slumber.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

 _Matt's Apartment_  
 _Present Day_

"And you just walked out?"

"Yeah, I walked right out."

Matt chuckled.

"What?" asked Foggy. "Was my majestic exit _hysterically_ hilarious?"

"It's just that you and I have a knack for getting into the jobs that don't work out the way we planned."

"When do things _ever_ go as planned?" Foggy finished his glass of water. "Hey man, all roads lead somewhere."

Matt frowned in thought. "Perhaps." He scratched his head. "I can help you find a new job, if you'd like."

"You can't even find yourself a job," said Foggy, good-humored.

"Yeah, I know." He swallowed some more beer. "Being blind isn't very good for business."

"Bullshit," said Foggy. "That didn't stop us from getting clients!"

"Maybe not. But I don't think there are any job openings for a blind cashier."

"There are other law firms out there. You can still be a lawyer, Matt."

"That didn't seem to work out too well, did it?" Matt leaned forward, setting down the bottle.

"You're the best lawyer I know. You're better than I am. You just have...committment issues. But being a lawyer and doing what you do at night isn't impossible. I've seen you do it before, though it's just not as easy as only doing one of them. But if anyone can, it's you. And I will support you all the way."

Matt's eyes stared at the floor in thought.

"Let's dust off the old sign, eh?" suggested Foggy.

Matt looked up at his friend, though his eyes were pointed at Foggy's left shoulder. "You're just running back to Nelson and Murdock because you don't have a job anymore."

"Maybe. But I also wish I'd never left."

"It didn't seem that way when you did." Matt stood to his feet, picking up his beer bottle and Foggy's empty glass. He walked to the sink, in which he placed it. He drank the last sip of his beer and tossed it into the trash.

"I was mad. I make shitty choices when I get mad."

"And you make better ones when you're unemployed?" Matt's voice was cordial.

"No, but at least this one is coming from my heart and not my head."

Matt laughed as he headed back to his seat. "You sound like you're in one of those sappy Hallmark movies."

Foggy grinned. "I'm surprised you know what those are."

"My next-door neighbor watches them."

"Ah." Foggy nodded. "But seriously. And besides, you need some sunlight. The only time you go outside nowadays is at night, which means you need a day job." There was a look of humor on Matt's face. "Come on, man, don't leave me hanging."

"I'll think about it," Matt said.

"Aaaand he leaves me hanging." Foggy clapped his hands together once. He stood up. "Well, I should probably go talk to Marci. Call me when you make a decision."

"Okay."

Foggy began walking away, but then he turned around. He gave a salute to Matt before he rounded the corner with a goofy skip in his walk that made Matt laugh, realizing how much he'd missed his friend. Moments later, he heard the door open and close as Foggy passed through it.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

 _Matt's Apartment_  
 _Three Months Ago_

Matt opened his refridgerator and pulled out a carton of eggs, which he set onto his counter. Karen walked into the room with a yawn, wearing one of Matt's shirts.

"Do you have any apples?" she asked.

"Yeah." Matt fetched one and tossed it to her. She caught it and took a bite.

Karen ambled into the kitchen area, stopping at Matt's side. She wrapped her arm around him, hooking her thumb into his belt loop.

"You want any eggs?" Matt offered.

"Sure. I'll take two."

Matt cracked five eggs and dropped them into a skillet over his stove. The sizzling of the eggs against the hot pan radiated into his ears. He picked up a salt shaker and added some to the eggs. Each grain of salt made a plopping noise as it landed on the still-liquid eggs, which is what told him how much salt he was adding. It actually worked better than the way normal people salt their food, by using their eyes, since salt always managed to blend into the food in a way that made the applier question how much they'd actually poured out.

"How do you know when they're done?" Karen whispered into his ear as he scooped at the eggs with a cooking spatula, scrambling them.

"A combination of things. The smell changes as the eggs get more and more done. I can also feel vibrations that tell me their texture. They even make a different noise."

"All that from scrambling eggs?" asked Karen, surprised. She took another bite of her apple.

Matt smiled. "And then some."

"And that coffee you're making over there doesn't affect the egg smell?"

"A little, but I can usually separate certain scents."

"Hmm," said Karen with interest.

Matt continued to work at the eggs until he finally poured them onto two separate plates: one for Karen, and the other for himself.

"Bon appétit." He handed Karen her plate, along with a fork. "And, the coffee should be ready right about...now."

The coffee maker beeped, announcing its completion. Karen exhaled with surprise at his accuracy. "I take it that made a special noise before it went off, too."

Matt gave a small laugh, bowing his head with a smile at her comment.

Matt and Karen poured their coffee and sat at his small table with their egg breakfasts. Matt had also prepared toast to go with the eggs. Karen set the remains of her apple on the edge of her plate and took a bite of eggs.

"Wow, the salt on these is perfect," she said. "I guess the perks of having heightened senses means that you turn out a pretty good cook."

Matt shrugged. "Hard to get the ingredient amounts wrong."

"I can tell." They ate for another minute, but Karen decided to ask a burning question that she had. "Do blind people still dream?"

"Yes, we do. I remember what it was like to see, with the objects and the colors, so some of that is incorporated. I also dream about what I 'see' now, with all of the extra feelings and senses that normal blind people don't have. Blind people still dream, but mine are more detailed than most. I see people the way I remember them back when I could see, and I see people like you, that I met after the accident, the way I imagine you to look. Those who were born blind just dream in sounds, I suppose."

"Oh, interesting." Karen's brow furrowed as she thought more in depth. "How do you see yourself? The last time you ever saw yourself, you were only nine."

The corners of Matt's mouth turned upward at her curiosity. But it was nice to share these things with other people. "Some of the time, when I think of myself, I see that nine-year-old. I try to imagine what I look like now, but it's a bit difficult. Sometimes I just make up something and go along with it before changing it into something else. But it's usually just a blurry image."

Karen closed her eyes, imagining Matt's perspective, and what he must feel when he opens his eyes and sees nothing. How he has to rely on his other senses to find his surroundings.

"What was your favorite color?"

Matt's smile widened. "I always liked yellow a lot."

"Yellow..." Karen said thoughfully. "I kind of like blue."

"I can sense colors sometimes, but only if I concentrate _really_ hard. And I need a bright light. The sun, for instance."

"How?" asked Karen.

"Each color has a different wavelength. The level of concentration that I need to detect these is very high, so I don't usually. But, if I ever feel extremely sad, looking for colors tends to cheer me up a bit."

Matt's reasoning seemed a bit depressing. "You don't seem too sad, but I think we should find a sunny spot. Perhaps this could be an exception to your rule."

Matt and Karen, now in the clothes she had worn the previous night, wandered through the city until they reached an open area in the direct sun.

"Stay right there," Matt said. He closed his eyes as he concentrated. He was silent for quite a few moments until he finally got a grip on it. He beamed. Karen had never seen him smile so brightly before. He watched as the light reflecting from her face reached his, tickling his cheeks and flooding his veins with euphoria. "Your eyes are beautiful. I think blue might just be my favorite color now."

Karen blushed, and Matt noticed.

"You're so beautiful." He stroked her hair, which he now saw as blonde. He, now satisfied, opened his eyes. The colors disappeared. "Unfortunately, I can't hold colors long, or it gives me an awful headache," Matt said. "But that was wonderful. You are even more beautiful than I imagined." Karen blushed again.

He cradled her head into his hand with a grin on his face, then planted a kiss on her lips. The kiss deepened as her lips moved with his. Once they finally broke apart, their fingers interlaced, and they strolled down the sidewalk.


	4. Chapter 2

_Karen's Apartment_  
 _Two Months Ago_

"I thought we've been going your place long enough that I should finally bring you to mine," Karen said, flicking on a small light in her apartment. Matt smiled, leaning his cane in the corner of the room. "It's not much, and it's a lot smaller than yours, but..."

"It's nice," said Matt.

Karen nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, and then she set her purse down on the counter.

Matt wandered into her bedroom, his fingers running across the walls, feeling the many bullet holes scattered among the drywall. Despite many objections from, well, practically everyone, Karen insisted that she stay in her apartment after the Blacksmith attempted to kill her. She somehow felt a strange connection to her apartment, and how much has happened inside it. Perhaps it was a magnet to these types of things, but she didn't mind too much. Not anymore.

She opened her refridgerator, searching for some dinner.

"Oh, shit," she said.

"What?" Matt asked, turning around. "What's wrong?"

Karen closed the refridgerator door, embarrassed, tapping her fingers on the top. "I don't have any food." She opened the doors to her cabinets, searching for things that she could fix. The only foods she could find were ingredients, spices, and a couple of meat patties. And, it was a little late to start anything from scratch.

"What about these?" suggested Matt, picking up a box of Ramen noodle packs.

"Aw, you don't want those..." said Karen.

"I do, actually. Something nice and simple."

"Um...okay." Karen picked up a pot, heading over to the sink. Matt gently laid his fingers on hers as she held the handle, causing her to stop.

"If you don't mind," Matt said with a smirk. "It's a childhood thing."

"Oh, really?" Karen raised her eyebrows, allowing him to take the pot from her. He filled it with water, then set it on the stove.

"I fixed them a lot on nights my dad fought." He turned the knob that started the stove burner, listening to the clicks until he reached the desired setting.

"I eat them when I don't feel like cooking much," said Karen. "Which usually happens a lot." They both laughed.

Matt cocked his head, his teeth gleaming in the low light. "Sometimes the motivation is just not there."

"I'll drink to that," said Karen. "And that is something I do have." She threw her index finger in the air as she reopened her refridgerator and pulled out two beers.

Matt chuckled. "Beer and Ramen noodles. What a combination."

"The more I think about it, the less weird it sounds," said Karen. They both simultaneously opened their beer bottles and took a first sip.

Matt could feel the steam, even from his several-foot distance, of the water heating up. Eventually, large bubbles built up until it was at a boil that was loud and clear in his ears, and he dropped three Ramen noodle blocks into the water, stirring them with a wooden spoon.

As he stirred, he observed her apartment in more detail, searching for objects that they might use or talk about. When he found something he liked, the corners of his mouth turned upward.

Matt set the spoon down for a moment, walking effortlessly to the corner of her dining area. Karen watched him with curiosity. Matt's fingers turned the knob as he pressed the power button and tuned the radio to one of his favorite stations, feeling the different radio waves until they were the right ones.

The music was calm and a little romantic. This specific song was only instrumental.

Matt returned to the stove, stirring the noodles once more.

"I haven't used that radio in...months? Years? I don't even know," Karen said.

"It is a little bit dusty," said Matt, humorously. He drained the noodles, then spooned them out onto two plates.

Matt handed her a plate and a packet of chicken flavor. "Tu comida."

Karen smirked at his Spanish. "Gracias." She took her plate to the table, sitting in one of the two chairs.

"Necesitas más sabor de pollo?" Matt held up an extra packet of the chicken flavor, waving it around.

"No, gracias," replied Karen. "And now you're just showing off."

"Nah, that's just the basics," said Matt. "But, sure." He followed her to the table with his own plate and beer. He opened his flavor packet and gave his noodles only a light dusting, while Karen poured the entire pack on hers.  
"Is that all you're using?" Karen asked, surprised.

"It's all I need, since I have such powerful senses," he said. "I could taste them, slightly, before we even opened them."

"Must come in handy when you're at a restauraunt and can't decide what to order." Karen smirked, twirling her fork in between her fingers. "You can taste the food on everyone else's plates to see if you like it or not." Matt smirked.

"I suppose so."

They both began to eat their noodles. Matt relived memories of his father and childhood while Karen tried to decide if she wanted more chicken flavor from Matt's packet or not. But either way, they both enjoyed the other's company more than anything else.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

 _Matt's Apartment_  
 _Present Day_

Matt opened his laptop and played the morning news while he prepared himself some breakfast. He planned to call Karen and tell her about Foggy's proposition. He wanted to hear her opinion on the matter.

Matt wasn't particularly good at opening up to people. He had Foggy, but there were still a few boundaries between the two of them, such as how far they're willing to go for justice. Karen, however, was much more understanding, and she had a certain empathy for criminals.

Not that Matt was a criminal, of course, but she still knows that there's a reason for everything, and that Matt had an obligation to being Daredevil. Karen understood this obligation much more than Foggy, so she was much more accepting of it. After a great deal of convincing, Karen had actually managed to persuade Matt to reluctantly allow her to help him with a few of his night missions that didn't go away as quickly as he'd hoped. But nothing that would put her in harm's way.

The only other woman he'd met that had this same feeling, this specific understanding of obligation, was Elektra. The difference between Elektra and Karen was the way they were raised into it. Elektra was trained from a young age to fight and kill, so she knew the sacrifices that had to be made. Karen had gone through tragedies in her lifetime that caused her pain and suffering, but she pulled through them all, which Matt admired her for. Karen was the strongest woman he'd ever known.

The night Elektra died, Matt had told her that he was willing to go anywhere with her, and that with her he felt things he felt nowhere else, with no one else. The more time that is put between then and now, the more Matt discovered that those words were less of what he felt and more of what she needed to hear. Yes, she was extraordinary, and yes he loved her, but she was the Black Sky, and, whatever that was, it altered her in a way that made her dark and dangerous.

And, before they fought the Hand on that rooftop, they both knew their odds, and they weren't pretty. Matt just wanted to say something that could get them both through the fight alive, but it just wasn't enough for her. Matt wasn't sure which was worse: the fact that she died and he didn't, or that she died believing something that wasn't entirely true.

Perhaps Matt had been so heartbroken about Karen that he defaulted back to Elektra. He didn't even know. Everything happened so fast, and that's what felt right at the time.

After Matt finished his breakfast, he called Karen.

"Hey, Matt," she said. He loved hearing her voice.

"Foggy came to see me yesterday."

"Really?" There was surprise in her voice, but also relief. She didn't like the tension between the two friends any more than Matt did.

Matt explained the new situation between him and Foggy. After he was finished, he asked Karen for advice.

"Well, you don't exactly have a job right now," Karen said. "You need money."

"This should be more than just a financial decision," replied Matt. "And it's not like we made much at Nelson and Murdock, anyway."

"I know. And you're right; this isn't just about the money. It's about you and Foggy, and it's about your passions." There was a pause as Matt heard her swallowing some type of beverage, which was probably milk, as she was eating her own breakfast. "You're lawyers, and you seek justice. Even if you have a night job where you do the same thing...in a different way."

"So you think I should go back?"

"I always loved seeing you as a lawyer. You're _so_ smart, and you are one of the few good ones out there who _isn't_ there for the money, but for the people. This city needs you in a suit, Matt. And not just the red one."

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

 _Karen's Apartment_  
 _Two Months Ago_

Karen swallowed her last bite of Ramen noodles. "These taste so much better than when I make them, and I don't do them any differently." She looked at Matt with a grin, which he returned. "Maybe it's just because you're here."

The music still played calmly and sweetly, echoing throughout her apartment.

Matt stood up and held his left hand hand out to her. "Come here."

Karen placed her hand in his, and he lifted her to her feet. He took a few steps back and pulled her strongly yet gently, and she giggled, stumbling happily after him.

"I've never been much of a dancer," he whispered into her ear. "But you make me want to." Karen's smile widened, and their fingers interlaced. Matt placed his free hand on her side, and she placed hers on his shoulder.

Matt guided their movements solely with his left hand, and they glided to the music, spinning in circles so slowly and gracefully that Karen hardly noticed. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder.

"For not being much of a dancer, you sure are good at it," she said. "Most guys I've danced with have tripped."

Matt laughed, and she could feel his chest vibrate as he did so. "Well, uh, thank you."

"De nada," said Karen. She didn't even have to look up to know that Matt smiled at her reply.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

 _Foggy's Apartment_  
 _Present Day_

Foggy's phone rang. When he looked at the screen, he saw that Brett Mahoney was calling him. He accepted the call.

"Hey, man. What's up?"

"Just another day at the office," Brett replied, but there was heavy sarcasm. "We arrested a girl last night for multiple accounts of armed robbery. Says she didn't do it. Sounds like your kind of case."

"I-I'm not at a law firm anymore...at the moment," said Foggy.

"Well she wants you. She said that that if Nelson and Murdock does not represent her, she wishes to represent herself. She is refusing the assignment of a public defender."

"Why would she ask for Nelson and Murdock? We've been gone for months."

"She said you're the only lawyers she trusts, and that will trust her, despite the odds. And the odds aren't so great."

"Oh." Foggy wasn't sure what to say.

"Look, I know that none of it's really possible, but I thought I'd still ask, just so you knew. And tell Matt hi or something; I haven't seen him in awhile. Is he all right?"

"Yeah, he's fine." Foggy ran a hand through his hair. "Hey, I'll get back to you on this later, okay? Just give me a couple of hours."

"Um, okay," said Brett. There was a short pause. "You really think you can do it, don't you?"

"Maybe."

"Okay..." Brett's voice was full of doubt. "Well, I'll talk to you later, then."

"Okay." Foggy hung up.

Foggy decided to head back over to Matt's house to deliver him the news. Besides, talking face-to-face was much more personal and professional.

Foggy headed out to the sidewalk and flagged down a taxi. Once one stopped, he opened the door and climbed in. He made eye contact with the brawny driver in the rearview mirror. He had a scar on his face that began above his right eye, went across the bridge of his nose, and ended on his left cheek.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Uh..." Foggy lost his train of thought.

"Hello? You okay?" said the driver. He turned to face Foggy, then snapped in front of his face. "Wake up, princess. If you don't want to go anywhere, get your ass back on the sidewalk, because plenty of other people could use a ride."

Foggy, blinked, shocked at the driver's attitude. He finally told the man Matt's address.

The driver turned back around, placing his hands on the wheel. " _Finally._ " He stomped the gas pedal so hard that Foggy gasped, and his head jerked back.

 _Scarface is a maniac!_ Foggy thought. He gripped his briefcase so tight that his knuckles turned white. He clenched his teeth.

When Scarface swerved through traffic and slammed on the breaks so suddenly that Foggy thought he was going to die, that's when he yelled at him.

"What the hell, man?" Foggy shouted. "Let me out!"

That only caused Scarface to drive faster. Foggy's heart rate was so fast that he thought it was going to blow out of his chest.

Finally, the taxi screeched to a halt outside Matt's apartment building. Foggy stumbled out of the taxi, breathing heavily, not even bothering to pay the driver.

"Hey, buddy!" Scarface yelled. "Give me my money!"

"How about you give me back the ten years of my life that I just lost?" Foggy yelled back, hurrying his way to Matt's door.

At first, he thought the driver was going to get out and choke him to death, so his pace quickened. _Matt can beat his ass. I surely can't. Not with his biceps twice the size of my head._

Instead, the tires squealed as Scarface drove away. Foggy let out a deep breath that he didn't even know he was holding, his eyes squeezed shut.

Matt opened the door before Foggy could knock. He didn't need spectacular hearing to catch on to what was going on outside.

There was deep concern in Matt's eyes, and when he realized that it was Foggy standing before him, the concern doubled.

"Hey," said Foggy, his voice shaky.

"Hey," said Matt. "Are you all right?"

"It'll probably take me two years to finally ride in another taxi, but yeah, I'm good." Foggy adjusted the briefcase strap on his shoulder. "You wanna drive me around, instead?"

"I'm blind, I don't have a license, and I've never driven a car before," said Matt, playing along with Foggy's slight humor, allowing him to come inside.

"I still trust you more than that guy," said Foggy. "I'm beginning to understand more and more about why Scarface has a scar on his face."

"Scarface, huh?" said Matt.

"Seemed fitting." They stopped walking at the end of Matt's small hallway. "So, uh, Brett called me today."

"What did he say?"

"There's a girl they arrested for multiple accounts of armed robbery."

"You are really determined to get back into this, aren't you?" said Matt. "You've already picked us out a case and everything, and I haven't even said yes."

"The girl asked for us," Foggy explained. "She is refusing to have anyone else represent her."

"Why us?" Matt asked.

"She said we were the only people she trusted? She thinks we are the only people that can, and are willing to, help her out of this."

Matt's eyes wandered to the floor as he pondered the situation.

"Look, Matt. I wanted you to have more time to think about this. I didn't want it to be thrown in your face. But this girl may be innocent, and if we don't do something about it, she could face some jail time and a permanent record that she isn't proud of." Foggy sighed. "The least we can do is hear her out, and you can decide, with your mojo stuff, if she is guilty or not."

Matt wiped his mouth with his hand thoughtfully. After a few moments, he finally spoke.

"Okay," he said. "I'll do it."

"Really?" Foggy said, surprised.

"The two people I've talked to about it seem pretty confident in me, even though they are the ones I let down. I suppose that is a good motivation." Matt allowed the corner of his mouth to slide upward.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

 _The 15th Precinct_

"Man, my heart was _pounding_ on the way here," said Foggy. "I'm sure it hurt your ears." Foggy watched the taxi that they'd just ridden in as it drove away, relieved that it wasn't a ride like the one with Scarface.

"I could tell," said Matt, "but it wasn't any louder, just faster."

"Don't get all technical with me," Foggy teased. He opened the door to the building and walked inside, allowing Matt to walk in first, his cane tapping the ground in a nice rhythm.

"Well look who it is," Brett Mahoney said. Matt's head twitched as he located the direction Brett's voice was coming from. "Looks like you did it after all."

"I'm just that charming," said Foggy.

"Right," Brett replied. "It's good to see you, Matt." Matt, sensing Brett's desire to shake Matt's hand, offered his. Brett accepted it, giving it two strong ones.

"You too," Matt greeted. "So, what's the story?"

"Jenna Lawrence. Several small shops and convenience stores called in armed robberies by a female suspect matching her description. We also have her on security footage from most of those locations. She claims that she didn't do it, and she insists on having you two represent her."

"Did you catch her in the act? Where did you arrest her from?" asked Matt.

"The amount of evidence we collected forced us to find her home and take her from there, but we didn't see any more evidence in her house for the investigation. No guns, knives, anything," said Brett. "I'll take you guys to her."


End file.
